


Catching Flies

by vexednperplexed



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 17:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10140599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexednperplexed/pseuds/vexednperplexed
Summary: "This was going to work, he just knew it. All it was going to do was take some patience on his end, and absolutely none on the guard's. Killian was quite adept at making others lose their patience with him. He would be out in no time flat."Killian is being held prisoner. But for how long?





	

"You should release me," Killian declared suddenly. He sat on the cot in his cell, his back pressed against the cold brick wall. It was the modern sort of dungeon, very similar to the holding cells in the Sheriff's office back in Storybrooke. While it was certainly warmer than dungeons he's found himself locked in along his hundreds of years of age, it still wasn't a pleasant place to be. Perhaps more comfortable, but no less claustrophobic. Killian hated being shut in, locked away. He was a free spirit that needed wide, open spaces to feel at ease. Or at least the freedom to leave the building as he pleased.

Being a prisoner of course meant he was free to pace his cell and no more. Killian was growing anxious.

"You'll be released as soon as Emma Swan complies," his guard replied, shifting in his chair just on the other side of the iron bars holding him in.

"I'll be released much sooner," Killian insisted. The guard barked a laugh at the declaration. His back was to Killian, not even bothering to turn and look at him. The man was dressed in what Killian assumed passed as armor in this realm. The dark padded vest was something he had seen on the television box, worn by officers and soldiers walking into gunfire. Emma called it something with a K. Kevler. Kalvar. Killian wasn't sure, but it was supposedly a vest that protected against bullets. The man also had a helmet made of a similar black material, with a shield covering his eyes. Perhaps the man expected someone to enter the room armed and ready for a fight. It would be quite some time before anyone came for him, if they came at all. And if someone did mean to rescue him, bullets would be least of his guard's worries.

His family had more important matters to attend to at any rate. It was clear his captors meant him no physical harm, which meant his rescue could be delayed, if attempted at all. His family came for him in the Underworld, which had surprised him immensely. Killian still had a difficult time remembering that he apparently mattered to the whole family, not just Emma. At least in some way, if only for Emma's sake. And since he still couldn't quite grasp that his well-being was considered important on some level, Killian battled with his own mind wondering if a rescue would be attempted at all.  
  
Of course they would come for him. No they wouldn't, why would they? He was going to drive himself mad if left only to his thoughts.

"Believe you me, lad. You'll be releasing me. It will be only a matter of time."

"Lad?" the guard questioned. "I'm not some kid."

"Everyone's a child to me." Well. In a sense.

"Whatever."

"Oh, ye of little faith. You will let me go. The temptation will grow too much for you." Killian rolled his ankles as he leaned more comfortably against the wall.

"It won't."

"It will."

The guard scoffed and righted himself on the seat once more.

Killian shouldn't have even been in this situation. The whole bloody thing would have been avoided had Henry only listened to him. He and the lad struggled with their dynamic. It was difficult for the boy to consider Killian a figure of authority, and on some level Killian understood. He wasn't Henry's father. But damned it all, the boy is a bloody child, and when an adult wishes to protect him he should bloody well listen! Not that Killian could really say much without the pot calling the kettle black. When he had been the boy's age, he had been treated as a man in almost all regards. Different times. Different situations. Killian had been without a loving family wishing to shield him from the dangers and evils of the world. It was a necessity.

This damned group, they called themselves the Protectors like the gang of self-righteous zealots they were. They had contacted Emma, wishing to align themselves with the Savior to help rid their precious realm of the evil magics that were slowly reaching into the world. Emma of course wouldn't comply with them. Destroying magic was fundamentally against all she now stood for. He was reminded of Greg and Tamara, the misguided fools hired by Pan to kidnap Henry. Wasn't it ever more interesting that these Protectors aimed to kidnap the lad as well? The deal they offered was to spare Storybrooke for now, should Emma assist them in hunting down the other such towns. Naturally Emma declined.

It had been quite a shock to learn that other towns existed at all. Though, it was a bit arrogant to assume Storybrooke was an anomaly. Hadn't Tamara said much the same? That Storybrooke was not the first time magic had crossed over? Well, it hardly mattered to the current situation. 

The Protectors had wanted to take Henry prisoner to attempt to force Emma's hand. Henry's release for her cooperation. While Emma, David, Regina, and Snow searched for the miscreants within Storybrooke's borders, Killian had been left in charge of guarding Henry. He and Emma had turned the basement of their home into a sort of safe room, wards and protections surrounding the entire room even more heavily than the house itself had been. When Killian heard an attempt to break down the house's wards, he had ushered Henry into the basement to wait out the intrusion. When the footfalls on the floorboards above had ceased, Killian directed Henry to remain where he was until Killian could assess the situation and deem it safe to return to the house proper.

But no, Henry being the bloody stubborn teenager he was felt he didn't need protecting. That he could help search the house for the remaining intruders as well. The lad waited until Killian had ascended alone to do the same, and the lad walked right into them. Why listen? It wasn't as if Killian had the lad's safety in mind at all, no of course not. And naturally no one answered their bloody phones when Killian called. He had hunted the bastards down to the town line, cutting them off by crashing David's damned truck into one of their own vehicles. In hindsight, Killian was very glad he hadn't crashed into the one that transported Henry. Had the boy been injured, Killian would never have forgiven himself.

These Protectors seemed to have some set of morals, however. For once he told them he was the Savior's lover, and True Love at that, they agreed to take him in Henry's stead. As much as Killian wanted to fight through the lot of them to retrieve Henry and both go home, he knew it was unlikely. He laid the keys to David's truck on the ground for Henry to take once the Protectors left. Along with his phone, as he had been ordered to do.

Which now left him in his cell, somewhere between here and there, alone with his guard. The cell was a bit more advanced that the ones he could break out of so easily in the Enchanted Forest. His escape would take time. Either way, he needed the guard to willingly leave his post unguarded for it to be plausible. And he needed the man to leave for a good measure of time. A simple bathroom break wasn't going to cut it.

"What do you call yourself, lad?" Killian asked. The guard seemed against being referred to as lad, so naturally he would continue to do so.

"Not a 'lad'," the man insisted in a rather grumpy tone. Ah yes, this would at least prove to be entertaining.

"'Not a lad' is an odd name."

"Not my name."

"'Not a lad, not my name'. Mouthful."

The man grunted in response. Killian chuckled.

"Well, if you refuse to tell me your name, I'll simply have to make one up."

"Or you could just shut up."

"Ah, but where would the fun in that be?"

"You're a prisoner. It's not suppose to be fun."

"How about Roger?"

"Seriously?"

"Wallace?"

"Dude."

"Arnold."

The guard finally stood from his chair and spun around to face Killian. His visor hid his expression, but Killian imagined it was somewhere between quiet irritation and full on rage. A wide range, but still likely.

"Shut. Up."

"That is such an odd phrase," Killian insisted as he leaned forward with a smug grin on his face. "'Shut your mouth' I understand. It makes logical sense, you open your mouth, you shut it. But why the 'up'?"

"Be quiet. Or I'll make you be quiet." The guard's tone took on an almost growl. Killian laughed.

"Oooh, threats now. Getting riled up by the prisoner? Not a terribly good guard, are you?"

"I'm warning you."

"Well, it's a damned good thing you're paired with me. You need the training. First step in guarding, should the prisoner get under your skin..." Killian stood from his cot and sauntered over to the bars. "They've already won." He winked, just for good measure.  
  
The guard reached through the bars to grab him, but Killian backed up in time to avoid the man's attempt to grasp at his collar.  
  
"Tsk tsk, getting physical now? Yes, I see you will need _quite_ a bit of training. Not to worry, I've been held prisoner many a time. I'll help you."

"I don't need training. YOU just need to shut your damned mouth!"

"Ah, there's the proper phrase. Good for you, graciously taking critique."

The guard cursed under his breath as he returned to his chair, sitting down with more force than necessary. Killian considered the exchange a victory as he returned to his cot to give the guard a small reprieve. This was going to work, he just knew it. All it was going to do was take some patience on his end, and absolutely none on the guard's. Killian was quite adept at making others lose their patience with him. He would be out in no time flat.

He pretended to sleep. But in reality he was watching the guard's posture. He needed to let the man cool off. Give him a false sense of security, think the worst was over. Perhaps even allow the man to convince himself that Killian had taken the open threats to heart and would remain silent for the remainder of his time in the cell. And then, once the guard felt all would be well... start up again.  
  
Killian actually did fall asleep. The day had been physically and mentally exhausting, and other than pestering his guard, he truly had nothing else to do but wait to be rescued. If that even happened. His dreams were anything but restful. He dreamt of never leaving the cramped cell, forgotten and abandoned by those he had grown to care for. In his dreams, he wasted away in the cell, clawing at the walls in an attempt to escape, but only succeeding in ripping away at the skin on his finger tips until the walls were lined with his blood.

He woke with a start, sucking in a sharp breath and sitting up. His heart hammered in his chest upon seeing the cell walls still surrounding him, and Killian felt the need to escape right that bloody second. He couldn't breathe, his fingers itched to grab the bars of the cell and pull them apart with the shear force of his own muscles.  
  
_Calm down you bloody git,_ he told himself. He hadn't been there for more than a few hours. But the nightmare felt so real, as they often did. Killian had always been cursed with a rather active imagination, and it haunted him in his dreams more often than not. What he needed was a distraction. And there, in the chair like the dutiful guard he was, was the perfect distraction.

"Reginald," he called out. "I'm famished. Find me some food, will you?"

The guard started. Apparently Killian had been asleep for a while, for the sudden sound behind him had given the poor lad a start.

"I'm not a butler," the guard grumbled. "You're a prisoner. Deal with it."

"Am I to starve then? Difficult to use someone as a bargaining chip if they're deceased."

"You're not going to starve to death."

"But I will grow more irritating if I continue to be hungry."

The guard simply ignored him. That wouldn't do.

Quietly, Killian stood from his cot and made his way over to the guard. His back was pressed against the cell, which was a mistake. And Killian would show him why. If the guard realized how close Killian was to him, he showed no signs of it. Killian was just behind him, a mere breath's distance away. The idiots had left him with his hook, and he was ever so tempted to run it along the guard's back. Ah, but that would likely lead to having his hook confiscated, and he needed that for his escape.

As close as he was, he could see that the guard was reading a book. ... Sort of. It was one of those... comic things Henry enjoyed. Killian didn't quite understand them. He felt the dialog as often contrite, and the images were far less compelling than the ones he could conjure in his own mind. He preferred a regular book.

Killian read a few panels over his shoulder.

"This Deadpool fellow has quite the mouth on him, doesn't he?" Killian inquired after a few moments of reading. The guard once again was startled, standing up suddenly from his seat and whirling around. Killian was lounged against the side of his cell, looking far too relaxed for one being held prisoner.

"What the hell, man?!" the guard demanded.

"Well, if I am not to be fed, I may as well be entertained. You're reading. Why can't I?"

"Go sit on your cot!" For measure, the guard pointed at the bed as if Killian needed to be told where it could be found.

"Oh, am I to be put in the corner now?"

"GO. SIT. ON. THE. COT."

"So demanding. I'll decline, however."

"You're a prisoner!"

"So you keep reminding me."

"Do as you're told!"

"I've never been good with following orders."

The guard huffed and threw his comic at the chair. "Yeah, I can tell."

"Be a dear, Bart, and go fetch me some food, hm?"

"Hell. No."

"I'll go sit on my cot like a good little prisoner if you do."

"Dude! I am not bargaining with you! Just go sit!"

"I'd rather not."

The guard huffed and cursed again. Rather than demanding Killian sit back down on his cot again, he simply lifted up his chair and moved it to the other side of the room. He picked up his comic angrily and made a point of sitting back down in his chair, far away from Killian.

"Well, that's rude. Now we can't share."

"Not for sharing," the guard insisted, pointedly turning the page.

"Shame."

Once again, the guard turns the page in an obvious manner, not speaking to Killian again. A change in tactics then. Instead of sitting on his cot, because he would be damned if he followed orders, he sat down in the middle of the his cell. And started singing. At first it was a quiet hum as he tried to decide which song he would blare at the top of his lungs. A sea shanty he sang with his crew? A song meant to be sung with a chorus of drunkards? A soft lullaby he would sing to himself as a lad when he needed the comfort of a mother, but was sorely without? If he was honest with himself, he wished very much to sing the latter. But that wasn't quite obnoxious enough for his efforts. The drinking song was what he settled on.

He grew louder and louder with each phrase until he was bellowing out the chorus. He was reward with the slap of the comic being thrown angrily at his cell bars.

"OK! If I get you food, will you shut up and go back to your cot?!" the guard asked angrily.

"Again with the 'up'," Killian replied smugly.

"Do you want food or not?!"

"It would be appreciated."

"Fine."

The guard stomped down a hallway Killian hadn't realized was there. Once the footsteps were distant enough that he couldn't hear them, Killian stood from his spot on the floor and walked over to the lock on the cell. He hadn't broken out of one of these cells before. He would need time to examine the lock, which he was doing now. Once he had determined the best way to get through it quickly, he would need more time to actually do the disarming. Being behind the lock made it difficult to analyze, but he'd done so many a time before in the Enchanted Forest. It wasn't new to him. The key hole looked large enough to get the tip of his hook into with a bit of maneuvering, but what sort of motion would he need to make to unlock the damned thing?

The footsteps returned much too soon, and Killian quickly changed his stance so he appeared to be leaning against the cell again rather than actively plotting his escape. The guard approached the cell with a silver square in hand and thrust it at the bars.

"Here," he said shortly.

"Here?" Killian questioned, eyebrow raised and hand reaching for the packet.

"Yeah. That's all we got, so that's all you get. Eat up."

Killian held the silver packet in hand, looking it up and down. He was certain the disgust was plain on his face. This looked like those bloody tart pops Henry liked to eat in the morning instead of a real breakfast.

"What? You were starving and now you won't even open it?"

Killian held up his hook in response. He could probably manage to open the packet on his own if he simply tried, but this was another opportunity to test how much patience his guard had.

"Whatever. Figure it out," the guard told him as he returned to his chair.

"Francis, I am disabled. Are you so heartless that you can't assist a disabled man so he might eat?"

"Yes," came the guard's quick reply. Killian almost chuckled. He stuck the wrapper between his teeth and pulled until he felt the packet give way. "Oh, look at that. Knew you could do it."

Killian spat the wrapper on the ground just beyond his cell. The guard shrugged.

The tart pops tasted like chalk. But food was food, so he took it. The tarts felt dry in his mouth, and it left him quite thirsty. He naturally let the guard know this. Apparently the guard didn't feel much like fighting it, so he simply stood to fetch Killian a glass of water. When he returned with the glass and handed it to Killian, he received a wink as thanks. Killian made sure to spill a little on the man's boot.

Fed and thirst quenched, Killian returned to his cot as he said he would. Silence filled the room for quite some time, and he almost fell into a restless sleep once more. But Killian didn't want to face his subconscious again. He felt enough quiet time had passed, and it was time again for his obnoxious behavior to continue.

"Sebastian," he called out. The guard groaned and lowered his comic.

"The deal was food for silence. It's time for you to be quiet now."

"And I very much intend to make good on my part of the deal, however I feel I must inform you of something important."

"Yeah? What?" the guard asked, looking back to his comic and suggesting just how important he felt whatever Killian needed to say was.

"I require the facilities."

The guard scoffed and motioned towards the far corner of Killian's cell. "Right there, buddy."

Killian had spotted the steel toilet instantly upon entering the cell, and while confused, he thought it quite interesting how they'd even provided one to begin with.

"Oh yes, I'm aware. But I felt I should inform you before I make use of it. For both our sakes."

"Don't care," the guard insisted.

"Well, I would appreciate a bit of privacy."

"Not a chance."

Although Killian had been expecting that response, he felt his quick gasp of astonishment was quite believable. "You wish to watch? Well, I feel I should probably let you know that I am quite spoken for, nor is that something I find... appealing."

"Dude, just piss. I'm not watching you."

"If you insist."

Killian made a show of walking over to the toilet and standing in front of it. The guard hadn't been watching him at all, having not bothered to look up from his comic book. Still, should the guard look up anyway, he wanted to make sure his movements were deliberate. He stood in front of the toilet and reached for the zipper on his jeans, then slowly lowered the metal piece. He hoped it was as loud to the guard as it felt for him. And then, without lowering his jeans just yet, he turned around. The guard wasn't paying attention. Well, he would be soon. Killian, in one swift movement, lowered his jeans just enough and sat right down on the toilet.

He grunted as he moved, which got the guard's attention.

"Oh, c'mon!" the guard exclaimed. Killian tried to school his features. The guard got up very quickly, slamming his comic book down into the chair. "Fine, you win. Yell when you're done."

"Will do, Mortimer."

The guard stomped away. Once Killian was certain he was well enough gone, he stood from the toilet and righted his jeans. He was getting out of this bloody cell.

He inserted his hook into the keyhole and got to work. Twisting this way and that, it seemed the lock wasn't going to budge. That was, until it caught. Perfect. Several minutes of slow movements would be all it would take to pop the lock.  
  
"Hey! You giving birth in there?!" the guard demanded from down the hall. Killian cursed.

"Can't a man use the facilities in peace? This cannot be rushed, lad."

Killian could hear the grumbling as the guard walked back down the hall. He closed his eyes and got back to work. He could feel the lock giving in to his ministrations, and it would be just a few more - Killian heard footsteps again and quickly unhinged his hook, leaving it in the keyhole exactly like it is. He rushed over to the toilet and gave it a good flush.

"Finally," he heard the guard say.

"Not quite yet, Alfred! T'was just round one!"

"Jesus, dude!"

"My apologies, but someone fed me cardboard."

The grumbling walked back down the hall.

He returned to the lock, and within the briefest of moments, he was free. Killian pulled his hook from the keyhole and returned it to his brace. He knew which hall the guard had gone down, and Killian was rather determined to avoid the fellow. While he couldn't spot the gun on him as he had been sitting, Killian had no doubt that the guard was in fact armed. He would much rather not find himself looking down its barrel.

There wasn't a single moment when Killian thought his escape would be easy. But he found the winding maze of a hall in this building was doing a well enough job of halting his efforts. And every bloody window he found was bolted shut. Should he get cornered, he could always smash the glass he assumed. But doing so now would only alert his captors to his escape. He turned sharply around one corner, and then another. The hall seemed to go on and on forever, until finally, blessedly... there was an EXIT sign. Killian had thought it was rather ridiculous that most doors in businesses leading outside announced that it was an exit, but now he was grateful.  
  
He should have been more careful, though. He had broken out of how many dungeons? Killian knew better than to go bursting through a closed door he couldn't see behind. But he wanted so badly to get out of there, to return home to Emma, that he got careless. And he was about to pay for it. Yes, the door lead to outside. But just outside that door was two Protectors, enjoying what appeared to be two small cigars. They both turned to look at him, eyebrows raised.

They stood in plain clothes, not the armor his guard was wearing. One female, one male. Both looked startled by his sudden appearance, but neither seemed overly alarmed. In fact, the woman just continued to smoke her cigar. The man blew out smoke as he frowned at Killian.

"Like a bat outta hell," he stated. "Needed to get your fix that bad?" Now it was Killian's turn to frown. The woman finished her cigar - what a quick cigar - and tossed the remainder on the ground. He felt it was quite a waste, but as his eyes followed the litter she had thrown, he saw many more left overs from cigars. Ah. This was their designated smoking area.

"Desperately," he announced. He was dressed in plain clothes as well, and apart from the hook they clearly hadn't noticed yet, he looked as normal as them. They thought he was a Protector too.

"Well, don't be shy."

And Killian wouldn't be... had he anything on him.

"Ah... have you...?" he started, motioning towards his mouth.

"Oh, need to bum one? Yeah," said the woman. She then pulled out a white pack and smacked it against her palm a few times. Then she pulled a slender white cigar from the pack and held it out for him.

He took it with a smile. "Much obliged."

"Need a light?" the man asked.

"Yes, please." Killian wasn't someone who smoked a cigar daily, but he enjoyed one now and then. At least if he had to remain here he could enjoy their version of one. Though with the feel of it resting against his lips, he found he much preferred his cigars to their tiny ones. The man lit a match and held it out for Killian. He took it and lit his cigar, then tossed the match onto the ground.

The taste was far different from his normal cigars, and once again he had to say the winner was his version. This one certainly had a stronger hit, though.

"You guys see the prisoner yet?" the woman asked. Killian almost choked.

"No, not yet. They got Andy guarding him. Don't want anyone to go in. Apparently the guy can be really dangerous based on research." Ahhhh, so that's what the lad's name was.

"I've heard that as well," Killian stated, taking another hit from the mini-cigar.

"Yeah? He's apparently some ruthless pirate in one of the magical realms."

Killian moved his hook farther behind him, lest they see it and connect the dots.

"Yeah well, he can go back there for all I care," the woman stated, pulling out another mini-cigar and lighting it. Another? Killian was feeling dizzy just from the half of one that he'd smoke thus far.

"Can't. He's apparently bait or something."

"Yeah? For what?"

"Classified. Wasn't even suppose to know that much."

The woman blew out smoke as she said, "Lame."

The thundering of boots on gravel came from around the corner, and Killian wanted to curse under his breath. His plan had been to hopefully wait out these two until the left, then continue on. But no, of course they decided to take their bloody time. He wondered how long Andy waited before he finally just went back into the cell.

"Hey! You three!" came the voice of his guard as he rounded the corner. Killian stifled a groan. "The prisoner's escaped! Lock that door and start a search of the perimeter!"

"Oh shit," the woman exclaimed, dropping her cigar on the ground. The man followed suit. Andy had continued to run towards them, but then stopped in his tracks the moment his eyes landed on Killian as he stood there and smoked.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said in way of greeting. Andy looked positively furious. He pulled a radio from his belt and lifted it to his mouth.

"Cancel that. The prisoner has been located."

The man and woman beside him looked positively gob smacked and stepped away from him. Andy held out a pair of handcuffs. Killian finished his mini-cigar with a shrug.

"C'mon you son of a bitch. You get to sit in your cell with handcuffs now. How the hell did you even pick the lock?" Andy demanded. Killian finished his mini-cigar, then dropped it on the ground. As he was moving to comply, he made sure to swipe the pack of matches off of the man who was still standing and staring with his jaw on the ground. Pocketing the matches, Killian moved to allow Andy to snap the handcuffs on him. "You use this damn hook, huh?"

"Actually, the cell was unlocked. Perhaps you should check that this time."

"Yeah. Sure. Ass."

"You certainly have a way with words, Leonard."

Once the handcuffs were in place, Andy rather roughly shoved Killian towards the door and escorted him back to his cell. Before he allowed Killian to return, however, he made sure to fiddle with the hook on his left arm until he finally was able to unsnap it from the brace.

"You've lost your hook privileges," the guard announced, shoving Killian into the cell and slamming the door shut.

"Such harsh punishments for enjoying a quick smoke," Killian stated. He raised his brows and pouted as he continued. "Are you going to spank me too?"

"Let me make this clear," Andy practically growled as he locked the cell and shook it for good measure. "You make one more move, say one more word, make one more sound... and I will have absolutely no regrets as I shoot you. Understood?"

Killian shrugged. "I doubt I'll be much use to you dead," he stated nonchalantly. Truly, Killian didn't think the guard would outright kill him. But he knew more than anyone else that there were worse things than death.

"I don't need to kill you to shoot you," said Andy. "It's quiet time now."

"As you wish." And then Killian sat down on his cot. Right, so he'd gone beyond annoyance and straight into infuriating, it seemed. That was well enough. It could still work into his favor. For now, however, that mini-cigar was really packing a punch, and a quick nap would do well for him.

He had a difficult time getting comfortable on the cot, and it was surprisingly hard to turn with his arms handcuffed behind him. The part of him that was so use to being obnoxious to everyone wanted desperately to tell Andy how uncomfortable this was, and perhaps he should do away with the handcuffs. The part of him that was scheming to be released knew he had to let the guard cool down once more before he spoke again.

Finally, Killian seemed to doze off. At least this time his dreams were unremarkable, and when he awoke sometime later, he actually felt refreshed. No nightmares to haunt him this time. Perhaps that was because he had a real plan that would likely set him free once and for all. Killian made a show of pushing himself up into a sitting position and yawning. Andy was still in the corner opposite of the cell, though he's since abandoned his comic. He appeared to be watching something on the wide screen of his phone.

"What are we watching?" Killian asked as he pushed himself up from the cot.

"You're being SILENT," Andy almost yelled. Ah. Apparently the guard hadn't cooled off that much. Killian stood from the cot and slowly made his way towards the wall of his cell. He needed to brace himself against something as he worked his way out of his handcuffs, and a conversation would be the perfect way to keep Andy from noticing what he was doing.

"Oh come now, I'm back in the cell where a prisoner like me belongs, aye? You could at least be courteous."

"You could also be QUIET."

"Ah, yes. How terribly silly of me."

"I wasn't joking about that gun."

"Would you shoot an unarmed, prone disabled man? Would that make you feel good, Andrew?"

Andy looked up suddenly from his show, looking quite startled. Killian offered him a knowing smirk. The guard's initial shock wore off quickly upon seeing Killian's smirk. Killian almost had his brace off. It was only a matter of time.

"You kept calling me everything under the sun. You were going to get it right eventually."

"Of course. Now, you haven't answered my question. Would that make you feel good? Feel big, bad, powerful?"

"Dude, just shut up!"

"Powerful. Threatening. In control. Intimidating."

"DUDE!"

"How wonderful it must be to be armed and free. Tossing threats about like they're your gift to the world. The amazing Andrew, so powerful and commanding. Can control a prisoner, unarmed and locked behind bars with the threat of violence. A one handed prisoner at that."

"Seriously!"

"Is it tempting yet?"

Andy stared at Killian, completely confused by the question. Killian figured he would be. It had been several hours now since he had said releasing him would be tempting. So much had happened. It wasn't at all surprising that the man had forgotten about that conversation completely.

"What, shooting you?" Andy finally asked. "Yeah. Extremely."

"Releasing me."

"Like hell."

"You're tempted. You wouldn't have to deal with me anymore. I almost escaped earlier so easily. I could do it again. We've only been here together for a few hours. What if this continues for days?"

Andy scoffed.

"I've got you under control now."

"Oh? Do you?" Killian didn't even give Andy the chance to ask what he meant. His brace was completely off and free of the cuffs, and he chose that moment to pull his hand from behind his back and grasp the bar in front of him.

"Wha- How?!"

"I'm a pirate. You don't have control of me. You never have, you never will. This is exactly what my stay will be like. So, is it tempting now?"

Andy stood up from his chair, anger radiating off of him. "You are not getting out!"

Killian pulled the pack of matches from his pocket. "I believe I am." Stepping away from the cell wall, he took the few steps towards the cot and pulled a match from the pack with his teeth. He then struck the match against the brick wall of the cell and dropped it onto the cot.

"What are you doing?!"

Killian shrugged as the cot caught fire. "As I've stated several times. I'm no good to you dead."

\--------------

Killian walked out quietly, and he was certain he heard Andy mention that it was the only time he could get Killian to shut up. Well yes, naturally. He was getting what he wanted. There he was, walking right out the front door, soon to be a free man.  
  
They had only just made it over the threshold when from the side of the building, someone came running.

"Killian?!" he heard Emma call. She was heading the team, and just behind her were her parents, and even Regina.

"Give him up!" David demanded, unsheathing his sword the moment they stepped up to the door.

"Gladly," Andy announced, releasing Killian's arm and stepping away.

"Wait... what?" Snow asked, lowering the bow she had readied.

"Just like that? What's the catch?" asked Regina.

"No catch. Just take him. I'm done with this." Andy raised his hands as he backed away and walked back inside the building.

"Just... like that?" Snow parroted, clearly confused.

"Andrew couldn't handle my particular brand of charm," Killian offered in way of explanation. "But it's nice to see you lot preparing to storm the castle. Coming all this way just for me?" He smirked at them, but there was a part of him that was actually touched that they were, in fact, going to rescue him. "Well, as you can see the rescue was unnecessary. But I'm glad to see you all here. I wasn't looking forward to walking back to Storybrooke."

Emma stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "You deprived me of a dashing rescue," she told him as she held him close.

"Shall I go get captured again then?" he asked as he pulled her ever closer to him.

"Not a chance."

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this at work. Haven't even read through it once. Sorry for typos.


End file.
